Authors Note: Holy smoke's Batman! Another story!
SO, before you delve in, this story is preboot, It's after Bruce's vanishing act, but it's just gonna be it's own tale. It's focus is gonna jump from various characters, I just really wanna explore in some of their heads ;)
*****************REVAMP AS OF NOV 5/15! JUST THIS CHAPTER THOUGH!**************************
LOVES!
Disclaimers for All Chapters: All characters rightfully belonging to DC are not mine, my own however are mine. All song lyrics belong to the AMAZING band, Mr. Big.
Death of the Joker
Prologue: You and Me, at the End
A broken heart can't be that bad
When it's through, it's through
Fate will twist the both of you
(To Be With You- Mr. Big)
Is this really how it would play out?
Red, red is everywhere.
He hears the clown's cackled, enjoyment that disgusted himsself.
Is it different from when you shot a man without remorse? At the blink of an eye? That annoying voice in his head spoke again.
'Now now, dead little birdie.' The Joker cackled pausing to move towards him. He froze as the Joker easily swung the crowbar and struck his jaw, catching the skin and tearing his flesh.
Flesh wounds all over again.
He had to save her, not again...
His world was spinning, in and out of the darkness that threatened to devour him. He knew what that darkness was, he'd been there before.
Death.
He didn't know how long it took but he then could hear faint footsteps growing stronger, a herd of them it seemed. With it was whispering voices that seemed to mix in with the wind. Suddenly his world crashed around him and everything faded to black once more for that goddamn finalie as a soft female voice murmured in his ears.
'You'll be home soon. Home.'
He had offered to bury him. Something gave him satisfaction using his hands to dig into the ground, rather then out of.
After it was done he only once visited the grave. It was a nice day out. He paused near by another funeral going on, and spotted another figure there.
He watched calmly as the scene unfolded before him.
Her blonde hair blew in the wind, it was far longer now and no longer in her usual pig tails. Her blue eyes glanced at the funeral but they took no notice as she slipped a knife from her bag. She took no notice of him.
She then began her work. She carved with as much strength as she could, she small words into the stone. It wasn't neat, it wasn't pretty. her eyes stung with tears as she did so.
Once finished she put the knife away and stood. She angrily wiped the tears from her eyes and strode off back down the hill.
Where she had been, was the grave. It was made simple, as if, it wanted everyone to forget who was buried there. It bore no tombstone, no markings. It was covered in neat grass with a weeping willow above it upon the hill. A single stone laid flat upon the earth at one end, just below the start of the tree. There were no words upon the stone, it was only six inches long perhaps. One would not even notice it without knowing where to look.
But he knew.
He merely turned his back on the tree, the hill, the body.
He was very much, over death.